


A Final Fantasy Fairytale

by The_Muses_of_Mars



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 12:10:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11668863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Muses_of_Mars/pseuds/The_Muses_of_Mars
Summary: In this fantasy-themed alternate universe, Noct is the leader of a group of bountyhunters. One of his guild members has been causing trouble, so Noct takes him on a private mission to set him straight. Along the way he and Gladio come upon an escaped elven slave called Ignis. Gladio has plans for their new bounty, but Noct’s secret lineage comes to light and the two clash yet again, with Ignis caught in the middle.





	A Final Fantasy Fairytale

**Author's Note:**

> IgNoct Week Day 2, Prompt B: (Situational) Fantasy World AU

The two men on spiracornback were silent as they picked their way slowly through the forest overgrowth on their way back to the bounty hunters’ guild hall hidden deep in the woods. Noctis Lucis Caelum, the leader of the guild, never took the same path twice; he only associated with the most skilled of hunters, and he felt a well-traveled road leading to their home base would have been inviting mediocrity to the guild.

Noct’s companion today was Gladiolus Amicitia, a brawny degenerate still painted in the tattoos of the tribe that had exiled him. He drank too much and was prone to throwing punches first and asking questions later, which meant he was trouble. Noct had lured him from base for a one-on-one mission to test his mettle and to see if there was any truth to the complaints he’d heard of Gladio’s misconduct in the field. Sometimes people got hurt—even killed—in this business, so some aggression was understandable…even expected. But he had also been told Gladio was stealing more than his fair cut of each bounty he helped turn in. And there were rumors Gladio might be planning a coup to take over the guild.

All the warning signs were there, but Noct wanted to be sure to give his man the benefit of the doubt. Gladio had saved his life more than once. And even if he shot his mouth off and had made the occasional challenge to Noct’s authority as guildmaster, he was more reliable and dependable than members who had been with the guild for far longer than Gladio’s eight months of service.

So far things had gone well. They’d been away for three weeks. They’d taken on several jobs and completed them all successfully without a single casualty. And Gladio had been on his very best behavior. There had been minimal complaints, and no argument had been raised when Noct had said he would carry their earnings back to base in his own pack. It could be that Gladio knew he was being tested so he was playing the obedient servant, but Noct was impressed with his tracking skills, his strength and speed during the chase. They were still a day and a half’s ride from the guild hall, but Noct had all but made up his mind to keep Gladio on. He might even put him in charge of something, to see if the added responsibility curbed his drinking habits by giving him something else to do in his spare time.

One thing Noctis had noticed was Gladio wasn’t one to make small talk. He gave his opinion freely when he disagreed with his leader’s decisions, to be certain, but during downtime such as when they were making camp or traveling toward a destination, he remained silent. Even when Noct tried to initiate a conversation Gladio did little more than grunt in reply. So when the burly man held up a fist and brought his spiracorn to an unexpected halt with a growl of, “Stop,” Noctis didn’t hesitate to listen and obey.

Gladio’s fist remained in the air as he turned his head in a slow half-circle, scanning the tree line. The forest was thick, the canopy overhead all but obscuring the sun and casting them in a perpetual twilight. Noct neither saw nor heard anything, and felt a familiar annoyance with himself. Over the last few weeks this had happened more often than he would have liked to admit. As a half-elf, Noct felt he should have been the better tracker of the two of them. Every elf he’d ever met had had keen sight and sharp hearing, but Gladio bested him at both effortlessly. Of course, he never made mention of his lineage; elves were not treated kindly outside of their native Tenebrae, and it would have been just one more reason for others to question the young guild leader’s authority.

They remained motionless for so long mosquitoes were beginning to swarm. “What—?” Noct started impatiently, but Gladio cut him off with a hiss. Then the man pointed, and finally Noct saw—or at least, he _thought_ he saw—a faint sway in the tall grasses about thirty yards to their left.

Silently, both men slipped from the backs of their steeds and crouched down on the ground. Gladio made a gesture, advising Noctis to circle around their unseen quarry to close in from behind. They had likely already been seen or heard, so Gladio smacked their spiracorns’ rumps to send them on through the woods alone to make it appear as if they were leaving. He would take a more direct path toward their target; since he was larger, he wouldn’t be nearly so silent and stealthy as Noctis, which was one area in which the half-elf had him beat.

Noct had to move twice as fast to cover twice as much ground as Gladio’s straight shot toward the faint movement they’d detected in the grass. The young guildmaster didn’t know if they were stalking man or beast, but he had become one with the forest the moment his black mohawk delved into the tall grass of the forest floor. His crawl was serpentine; he writhed smoothly through the brush like a lizard with a knife blade gripped between his teeth.

Once he was directly behind their prey, barely ten paces away, Noctis rose from the grass as dark and silent as a shadow. He waited for Gladio’s signal. Noct may be the bounty hunters’ guild leader, but his strengths were in making connections, gathering information, and negotiating contracts; Gladio excelled in tracking and brute force, which was what this situation apparently called for.

All at once Gladio leapt out of the grass with a roar. He was ferocious like a bear, fierce as a mountain lion. And the ax he wielded looked deadly even without the glint of sunlight on its sharp blade.

Whoever or whatever had been crouched down in the grass was spooked out of hiding and tried to make a dash for the rear. But Noct was waiting. He stood, taking the knife from his teeth and transferring the grip to his right hand, while his left loosed a second dagger from the sheath on his thigh.

And that easily it was over. Noct’s stormy gaze was still exploring the angles of an exquisitely-carved, frightened face when the startled figure gave up and collapsed in defeat. Gladio circled menacingly around the fallen form while Noctis relaxed his tense shoulders and sheathed his daggers.

“You can put that down,” Noct grumbled. “I don’t think he’s going to put up a fight.”

Gladio stared down at the body shivering in the grass, his eyes roaming over a pale length of leg revealed by tattered, dirty robes. He strapped the ax onto his back with a disappointed grunt. “That’s too bad.”

Noctis shot him a look, then stepped closer to the trembling body on the ground. “Hey—take it easy,” he said, kneeling as the man tried to crawl away from him. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He stretched out a hand and combed his fingers through disheveled ash blond hair that, if washed and combed, would probably hang past the man’s hips. Noct cocked his head to the side and tried to imagine it, hardly aware he was brushing the tangled silk of the man’s hair back over his ear until the side of his hand brushed against an unexpected point.

“Huh…” Gladio made a strange sound of interest. Then, shockingly, he commented, “Never done an elf before.”

Noct snapped his head toward the other man. “Nobody’s ‘doing’ _anything_ to him,” he said sternly. He could feel the way the elf’s shaking had suddenly intensified. “Relax,” he soothed, brushing his matted hair away from his face. He noticed a rusty ring of black metal around the beauty’s throat and fingered it thoughtfully.

“What’s that,” Gladio asked, kneeling down next to them, “some kind of jewelry?”

“It’s a slave collar,” Noct murmured, a deep frown of concern forming on his face. “See that stone? It’s dwarven-craft. It prevents elves from using their magic…or from speaking,” he added, realizing why the elf hadn’t spoken or cried out even as frightened as he clearly was.

Gladio nodded, looking impressed. “That sounds handy.”

“It’s barbaric,” Noct spat defensively. He kept his own magical abilities a closely-guarded secret; since he was only a half-elf, his ears looked human and helped keep his lineage private. The only elves one could find in Lucis were slaves…or runaways, like this one apparently was.

The guildmaster reached for his dagger again, causing the elf in his grasp to flinch. “Hey, it’s okay,” Noct soothed, holding up his hands and showing his palms, the dagger held loosely by a thumb. “I’m just going to get that collar off you.”

“Wait a minute.” Gladio reached out and grabbed hold of Noct’s forearm. “It’d be more useful to leave it on for now.”

“What?” Noctis was stunned. “Why?”

Gladio shrugged sheepishly. “Come on… How often do you get the chance to take an elf? Don’t give me that look—I know you’ve had men in your room almost as often as I have.”

Noct felt his face flush. “N-not against their will!” he stammered. He was all too aware the elf’s wide green eyes were watching them.

Gladio’s brows furrowed in frustration. “But it’s just an elf—a slave, you said so yourself.”

Noct’s grip on the knife handle tightened. He found his pulse quickening along with his temper. “We’re bounty hunters, not thugs. We don’t rape the innocent.”

“It’s not like _it’s_ going to tell,” Gladio rationalized, jerking his head toward the elf as if he were a thing to be used, and not a flesh and blood, intelligent creature. “Leave the collar on until we’ve had our fun and collected our bounty. We’ll be long gone before anyone realizes—”

“No!” Noctis growled, pushing Gladio. If the man had expected the shove, he would have undoubtedly stood steady as a rock. But caught off guard, Gladio fell backward onto his ass. His eyes lit up with rage. Noct was prepared this time and flashed his dagger. “You may not like it, but I’m the master of this guild,” the boy declared. “My word is law—unless you’d like to leave.” Gladio glowered, but said nothing. “We turn in criminals—thieves, murderers—but that’s all. We don’t take advantage of elves and we don’t chase slaves, do you understand?”

“Then what are you going to do with it?” Gladio snorted. “If you let it go, it’ll just get its fool self killed. Look at it; it doesn’t have any weapons, and the sight of you was enough to make it cower like a scared rabbit.”

“If I take off his collar, he’ll have his magic,” Noct countered.

“Yeah—to use against _us.”_

Well, Gladio had a point.

Noct looked down at the trembling elf, suddenly realizing that not all the stains on his presumably once-white robes were mud. “He’s been injured.”

“Probably not worth much, then.”

“We’re _not_ turning him in!”

“Then let’s have our way with it and finish the job,” Gladio pressed. “It would be a mercy.”

“Not _raping_ him would be a mercy,” Noctis retorted. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

Gladio was as bewildered as Noct was astounded. “It’s just an elf.”

“He’s a man, the same as you or I! What difference does the shape of his ears matter? He bleeds the same red we do.” Noct was tired of trying to get through to Gladio. So close to home, so close to forgiving the man’s prior offenses, and now the guildmaster was seriously reconsidering his decision to let Gladio remain with his group.

Noct shrugged Gladio off one last time before the man’s open mouth spewed another word, leaving him to climb to his feet and sulk as the guildmaster raised his blade once more. He had no way of knowing whether or not the elf spoke the humans’ tongue or could understand him, so he kept his expression carefully reassuring as he slowly said, “I’m going to remove your collar. Hold very still; I don’t want to cut you by accident.”

The elf seemed to comprehend. He leaned his head back and turned his chin for safety as Noctis aimed the dagger at the keyhole of the collar. Noct wondered if he would speak the human language once his voice had been restored, if his words would carry the lilting accent of his people. He would find out soon, he thought, attempting to pick the lock on the cursed contraption.

As he worked, the young guild leader couldn’t help but wonder what the elf would have done if he hadn’t happened upon him. Anyone else—anyone with a shred of common sense, but lacking in decent morality—would have taken the elf into custody—perhaps not to do with him as Gladio would, but certainly to turn him in for the bounty his master must surely have on his fair head. It no doubt seemed suspicious that Noctis was taking such care not to harm the elf, risking his own neck by setting him free (a crime on par with thievery among humankind), but he didn’t concern himself about that right now. The elf was injured, though how severely he couldn’t tell, and he was scared out of his mind right now. Even though he had been raised among humans after his elvish mother’s death, Noct still felt sympathy for elves and their plight. If his father had been an elf, how very different his own life would have been.

The lock on the collar suddenly sprang open and the metal dropped to the ground behind the elf with the rustle of dried leaves. The blond’s hands raised immediately to his throat as he let out a surprised cry, his eyes wide.

Noct smiled with relief. He’d seen the slave collars, but never touched one. He hadn’t been sure how it would affect him—if it even could—let alone whether or not the lock could be forced open. “Better?” he asked, offering the elf his hand. The blond eyed him with suspicion. “What? Do you want me to leave you here? In your condition? Without any food or water?”

He could tell by the sudden shift in the elf’s expression he understood that much.

The guildmaster sheathed his blade and stood, waiting for the elf to join him of his own free will. Slowly, he did. “My name is Noctis,” the boy introduced himself.

The elf glanced about his surroundings warily, perhaps wondering where Gladio had gone. Noct wondered that, too. Finally, he said—in the accent Noct had been waiting to hear—“I am called Ignis. Ignis Scientia.”

 

Ignis walked side by side next to Noctis as they caught up with Gladio, who had wrangled their spiracorns and was waiting impatiently to continue their trek back to base.

He was noticeably agitated to see the two together. “Are you seriously bringing the elf along?” he demanded to know.

The tall, slender creature, hugging his waist to protect an unseen wound, cast a sharp glance at the dark-haired hunter who had rescued him. Noctis could feel his eyes on him, and wondered if somehow Ignis could sense their shared lineage.

“I told you he’s injured. What else can we do? He has no food, no water—”

“And we only have enough for the both of us.”

“We’re less than two days’ ride to the hall; none of us will die on half-rations till then.” Noct reached up to adjust the packs his steed carried to make room for another rider.

“Okay, so what if we run into bandits? Or lawmen? Or the bounty hunters out looking for his elven ass?” Gladio grew angrier with each word. “He’ll slow us down and cause us trouble. You should see the tracks he left through the forest—even an amateur could see where he’s been. Not to mention the wolves! He left a trail of blood that will have the packs sniffing us out by nightfall—which, thanks to him, is in about an hour now.”

Noct really couldn’t think of any way to defend the elf from the accusations, other than to point out, “He was obviously running for his life. I doubt he was thinking about wolves at the time.”

“I was not,” Ignis confessed, sounding guilty.

Gladio heard him speak for the first time and was startled. “It talks!”

“What did you expect?” Noct gave him a look.

“I didn’t realize you got the collar off.” Gladio stared at the elf for a long moment, then said, “I’ll see what I can do about covering its tracks. Wait for me here. And, Noct, don’t turn your back on it.”

As he watched Gladio retreated into the forest and disappear from sight, Noctis couldn’t help but feel he trusted the elf more than he trusted Gladio right now. The thought was irrational and he put it out of mind. What was he feeling? Was it kinship for the elf over their common ancestry? Or was he being bewitched by elven magic?

He decided to find out.

“So, what kind of magic do you have?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

The elf looked somehow paler than he had even when he’d been crumpled on the ground in fright. “None at the moment, I fear,” he confessed rather breathlessly. He stepped closer to a nearby tree and put out a hand to steady himself. “Normally…well, in Tenebrae…I was a healer.”

Healing magic. That was a surprise, but good news to Noct. At least, he thought so. It meant the elf would be less of a danger to them than if he had possessed, say, the guildmaster’s own fire magic. That should satisfy Gladio—if the elf was telling the truth. But then Noct decided not to tell Gladio anything; it might be safer for the elf if Gladio thought Ignis _did_ wield some elemental horror.

“Sounds like you haven’t been in Lucis for long,” Noctis remarked. He had never been to the elven lands, but his mother had told him of Tenebrae’s lush forests, cascading waterfalls, and floating islands from whence his people hailed. But that was before the wars, before humans had kidnapped and enslaved the elves, to steal their magic and their free will…and worse.

The arm holding Ignis upright was beginning to tremble. “Three years,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I am beginning to forget the things I once cherished… The songs of birds, the scent of rain, the warmth of sunlight on my skin…” He touched his face. His hand was streaked with blood.

Noctis frowned. “Where have they been keeping you?” he asked. He was afraid of the answer.

He never heard it. Ignis groaned and clutched the dark stain around his waist. He must have reopened his wound while trying to evade them.

Disregarding Gladio’s warning, Noct offered the elf his assistance. He slipped an arm around him, holding him high on his side to avoid putting pressure on the obvious injury. “Let’s get you on the spiracorn,” he murmured, “before you faint on me.”

It was almost too late. Ignis draped his free arm around Noctis’s shoulders, leaning on him heavily as he let himself be half-dragged, half-carried to the tall mount.

Gladio was just in time to see the spectacle, and he climbed his own steed’s back without offering to help them.

 

As Gladio had warned, night was soon upon them. The forest was already dismal during the day, but soon it was growing so dark it was difficult to see. The chirps of sparrows gave way to the hoots of owls, and shortly the fireflies provided more light than the setting sun above the forest canopy.

“Shouldn’t we make camp?” Noct finally asked, speaking to Gladio’s back. Ignis had dozed on and off for the past hour, his head lulling even now against the guildmaster’s shoulder while he held the elf to his chest as they rode.

“Aren’t _you_ the leader?” Gladio tersely replied over his shoulder.

Noct tried not to snap back at him. They were all tired and hungry. Arguing would be a waste of time.

There was a small clearing off to the right, Noctis noticed. It looked like a sparring zone for the local wildlife, judging by the scrapes in the bark of the trees, which indicated bucks had vied here for mates. “We’re breaking camp,” he declared like a proper guildmaster, giving the spiracorn’s reins a tug.

Ignis stirred and Noct gently pushed him into a sitting position. “We’re stopping for the night,” he said more kindly. He swung a leg over his steed’s thick body and dropped to the ground, then reached up to help Ignis down.

Gladio tied his spiracorn to a tree next to Noct’s and began unbundling a pack, grumbling all the while.

“Is it safe to stay here?” Ignis asked worriedly, looking around with eyes as wild and frightened as they’d been when the men had first spotted him.

“As safe as anywhere, I guess,” Noct shrugged. He was clearly not alleviating the elf’s nerves, so he reached out to touch his arm. Ignis started, his head turning quickly toward Noct. “Hey, what’s wrong?” the boy asked with concern. He lowered his voice. “I won’t let him touch you, if that’s what’s got you so jumpy. I’m _his_ master; he answers to _me_.”

“As safe as anywhere, I guess,” Noct shrugged. He was clearly not alleviating the elf’s nerves, so he reached out to touch his arm. Ignis started, his head turning quickly toward Noct. “Hey, what’s wrong?” the boy asked with concern. He lowered his voice. “I won’t let him touch you, if that’s what’s got you so jumpy. I’m his master; he answers to me.”

“It isn’t just that…” Ignis said slowly. He seemed nervous to admit, “Noctis…I cannot see.”

Noct swallowed the flutter in his chest when the elf spoke his name, instead focusing on the rest of his words. “You mean other than because it’s nighttime now?”

The elf rubbed the bridge of his nose, though whether the gesture was out of embarrassment or due to habit, Noct couldn’t tell. “What I mean to say is, I’ve poor vision; I am unable to see clearly without my spectacles, which I have lived without for these past three years. Though, yes, the fact that the sun has set has certainly made my predicament all the worse… I had not considered it when I fled my captors; I was only relieved to have found a means of escape.”

Noct didn’t know what to say. “Well, I guess there’s not much we can do about that right now.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Look, I’m the master of a guild hall of some renown. Traders come through every couple of weeks to sell their wares to my men. Maybe they’ll have a pair of glasses you can buy.”

“Buy?” Ignis sounded dubious.

“I’ll buy them for you,” Noct corrected himself, feeling a blush creep from his cheeks to his ears.

“I’m to stay with you till then, I suppose?”

Noctis considered. “Well, I mean…you don’t _have_ to.” He scratched the side of his head that wasn’t shaved, losing his fingers in the long, spikey strands of his black mohawk. “I’m really not sure what else you could do, though, considering—”

“Considering I’m a fugitive,” Ignis supplied. “Yes, I see your point. In that case, I accept.”

“You accept _what?”_ Gladio wanted to know. “Never mind—I don’t give a shit.” He turned to Noct. “The tent ain’t gonna pitch itself. Tie him up and let’s make camp.”

“Tie him up?” Noct repeated, startled.

“You want to give him the chance to steal your horse while you’re fluffing his pillow?” Gladio shoved a bundle at Noctis, hitting him square in the chest with enough force to cause him to take a step back. “Or maybe you’d prefer he slit our throats in our sleep, while the three of us are nice and cozy inside the tent?”

Again, Noct realized he’d become too comfortable around the elf. He had once again abandoned common sense and instead followed his…heart?

Before Noctis could respond, Gladio had gone back to hammering stakes into the ground to hold the tent in place. So instead Noct set down the bedroll Gladio had thrust at him and unwound a cord of rope from the back of his spiracorn. He turned to the elf apologetically. “Sorry about this,” he offered, shamefaced.

Ignis’s gaze rested beyond Noct, warily following Gladio’s blurred movements.

“It’s just for tonight,” Noct vowed as he reached for one of the elf’s slender wrists. “We’ll be back at the guild by dusk tomorrow, and then—”

“Then what?” Ignis interrupted coldly. “Then you’ll give me my own room?”

Noct swallowed the lump in his throat and concentrated on tying Ignis’s hands together. “Maybe.”

The elf said nothing more. Noctis picked up his sleeping mat and led him toward the tent by the shoulder. “I’ll get you something to eat,” he promised him, tying the slack end of the rope around a slim but sturdy tree.

“Not until we build a fire, you won’t,” Gladio pointed out as they joined him. He sat down on his still-bundled sleeping bag and wiped his brow. “We need firewood, and it’s your turn to do some work.”

“Fine.” Noctis started to take off alone, but he heard Ignis draw a sharp breath and paused. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch the elf’s shoulder again and instead quietly told him, “I won’t go far. I’ll be back soon.” Then he left, wishing he’d called an end to their trek before it had gotten so dark.

 

Ignis did not like the larger man who accompanied Noctis, and regardless of what the boy had proclaimed, he did not trust him to keep his distance.

His instincts were right. Mere moments after the dark-haired half-elf had disappeared into the forest, the human suddenly jumped at Ignis. Before the elf could cry out, he was on his back and the man was straddling his waist and choking him. No, not choking: replacing the collar he’d only finally gotten rid of. And now he had no voice to use to scream for help.

 

As he picked his way cautiously through the thick brush in search of logs and kindling, Noct mulled over the brief conversation he’d had with Ignis back at camp. He hadn’t been thinking of the future when he decided to help the elf; he’d acted on instinct, aiding someone in need of his help. It usually took longer than this for someone to earn his trust, though. Did he just feel sorry for the elf, for having been enslaved and chained like an animal? Or was the sense of some connection only for the sake of their kindred heritage? It was hard to imagine he could feel this way about someone he’d just met only because he was so damn beautiful, but that was a third possibility.

Noct tripped on a stump and dropped the few sticks he’d collected, letting out a curse as he fell and struck his knee on a sharp rock. He hissed as he stood. That was definitely going to leave a bruise.

He was getting nowhere fast, and he wasn’t sure he trusted Gladio to be alone with Ignis for long. After all, the man had expressed a carnal interest in the elf already, and had shown no consideration for Ignis’s thoughts on the matter.

He was alone out here in the forest and could hardly see. There was only one thing left to do, if he was to gather proper wood for the fire and get back to camp before Gladio had a chance to try something underhanded. Noct looked around uselessly and then finally lifted a hand into the air. He wore gloves with the tips cut off for this purpose especially: with minimal concentration he brought fire to his fingers, and soon a flame was hovering like a torch over his hand.

Now that he had some light, Noct was able to retrieve some of the kindling he had dropped and then forage for some actual branches and logs. Gladio was the expert on determining which types of wood were best for burning, but Noct couldn’t argue that it was his turn to do some of the heavy lifting since all he’d managed to do so far tonight was attend to Ignis.

He started back toward the camp feeling self-conscious. He and Gladio were both terrible cooks, but he had promised to get Ignis something to eat. Now he was less than eager to put his cooking skills on display for the elf, but he wasn’t sure why.

 

Ignis’s throat ached with the strain of trying to cry out for help. The human was heavy on top of him and stank of sweat and earth. His hands were large and rough, his breath stale with the stench of alcohol. His kisses were sloppy and the hair on his face scraped against Ignis’s cheek and jaw almost as painfully as the pressure of his body atop his wounded side. Though it hurt, Ignis struggled to twist free. His hands were bound together and he could not scream, but he would not make this easy for the man.

But Noctis had mercifully reached camp before the worst of the damage could be done. The boy had doused the small magical flame he’d used as lamplight so his ancestry would not be found out, but when he returned to the tent to find Gladio assaulting Ignis, he dropped the bundle of firewood to the ground and conjured up a greater firestorm than he ever had before.

Without even thinking, Noctis tore the glove free from his right hand and stretched his arm out toward Gladio. His eyes became twin flames as white-hot heat shot out from his palm in a burst of fire.

Gladio probably never knew what hit him. Or maybe he thought the elf had freed himself from the collar once more. He screamed like a wounded beast, an inhuman wail of indescribable agony. He was engulfed before he even had a chance to try to beat out the flames that consumed his body.

The stink of burning flesh hung heavy in the air. Noct finally regained control of his senses and ended the fountain of fire he had wrought forth. When he saw the devastation that had once been their camp, he hurried to pull free the blanket from his spiracorn’s saddle and used it to stamp out the flickering flames until they were extinguished.

Then he knelt down next to Ignis’s limp body, cradling the elf in his arms as he whispered, with tears streaming down his soot-streaked face, “What have I done?”

 

EPILOGUE

 

Noctis stomped the toes of his boots on the wooden steps leading up to the lodge that served as his guild’s headquarters, kicking off the dirt he’d picked up in the forest this morning. In his hand was a large bouquet of sapphire wildflowers—sylleblossoms.

“You want a ribbon for those?” someone asked. If one didn’t know Aranea well, one might think she were being sarcastic.

“Why,” Noct asked, “you got one?”

Aranea dropped the sharpening stone she’d been using on her lance onto the workbench situated in the corner of the hall’s expansive covered porch. She reached up and untied a red strip of cloth on her formidable bicep and offered it to her guildmaster.

“Uh…no, thanks,” Noct declined, holding up his hand in refusal. “I’m actually going to put these in a vase.”

“They’re beautiful. It’s a shame—” Aranea broke off, reaching out to touch the silky petals of one of the flowers. “Well,” she said regretfully, “at least he can smell them.”

“…Yeah,” Noct agreed, then headed inside.

 

The main floor of the hall was tavern, meeting room, and lounge all in one. At this time of day—late morning—it was vacant save for a few men just now rousing themselves after a late night of drinking. The guild members made their homes in the many rooms surrounding the main hall, both upstairs and down. Ignis’s room was on the main floor. He didn’t get around much yet, so Noct had him placed as near the main hall as possible for his own comfort. The recovering elf still took most of his meals in bed and rarely accepted a seat at the long table with the men, but he never complained that the bar got too rowdy at night and kept him awake, though Noct worried that it did.

Noctis had made so many trips to the elf’s room in the past six weeks, he could have found it with his eyes closed. He made his way there now—second room on the left—knocking gently before pushing the partially-closed door fully open. Ignis had been making friends at the hall and didn’t like to keep the door completely shut. Now that Gladio was gone for good, Noct felt they had little reason to worry.

“Is that you, Noct?” Ignis asked.

At the sight of his radiant smile, Noctis felt his heart sing. “I brought you some flowers,” he said by way of greeting.

The elf laughed and reached out to touch the bouquet that still blossomed in the vase next to the bed where his long, ash blond hair spilled all over the mound of pillows propping him up. “You just brought some yesterday,” he protested mildly, “and the day before, and the day before that…”

Noct laughed sheepishly. “I think there’s room for a few more,” he argued gently, coming to stand beside Ignis as he pushed aside the other flowers for today’s offering.

“Thank you,” Ignis said, settling his hands to rest atop his stomach. “They smell lovely.”

“You’re welcome. Has the doctor been by this morning?” Noct asked.

“Yes—twice,” Ignis intoned. “Really, Noct, you worry too much. My recovery is coming along nicely.”

“Is that what she said?”

“She said there’s little she can do that I can’t do myself with my magic. The rest will just happen gradually over time.”

Noct fidgeted with the flowers far longer than was necessary. Finally he drew up a familiar chair and sat down next to the bed and took a long look at the elf. As Ignis’s pain eased, so did the guilt Noctis felt. But he still wished there were something more he could do.

As if sensing his stare, Ignis reached up and caressed a hand over the scars on his face. “I can feel your eyes on me,” he said softly.

“I can’t help it,” Noct murmured, catching hold of the elf’s hand, “you’re beautiful.”

“Even still?”

Noct responded by drawing Ignis’s hand to his mouth and kissing it tenderly.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, you know. The bandages have been off for two weeks. I think I’m beginning to feel the sun on my face.”

“But you’re blind.” Noct cocked his head, his eyes drinking in the elf’s every feature. One eye was sealed permanently shut by scar tissue. The other was open but its former emerald green had paled to a milky white.

“Well,” Ignis shrugged with a smile, “at least I won’t need to purchase a new pair of spectacles.”

Noct didn’t laugh, but he did smile back at the elf. “Your magic… Do you think it will help you see again some day? Even a little?”

“All I can detect is a hazy light… Don’t feel bad.” Ignis squeezed Noct’s hand comfortingly. “I’ll always be grateful for what you did.”

Noct didn’t say he should never have left Gladio alone with the elf; it was an old argument, and one he always lost. “I’m grateful you came back to me,” he whispered instead. “And I know that you’re getting stronger every day, that soon you’ll be well enough to leave the guild and be free. But I wanted to ask you…” He climbed out of the chair and knelt instead next to Ignis’s bedside. “Ignis, will you stay with me?”

The elf may not have had his sight, but his expression wasn’t difficult to read as he opened his arms to Noctis. “My love, it is all I wish for in this world.”


End file.
